Private Gold

Chapter 11

Isobel raced down the narrow road. Her legs were pumping, her lungs burned, the stupid raincoat was flapping, its brightness a beacon that was guiding him to her. She couldn’t outrun her terror — fear consumed her, but at the same time, she knew she had nothing to lose in trying anything that might buy her an extra few seconds.

If she could reach the shacks, she’d have a chance. In the maze of tin roofs and tumbledown walls she could lose her pursuer and they would shield her from his bullets. If she screamed now, could anyone hear her?

But she was still too far away, and she knew that meant she’d never reach the shacks. The car was catching up too fast. The engine’s roar filled her ears. What would the shot feel like, when it came? She felt a burning in the small of her back, where she expected the bullet to hit.

And then the car pulled level.

“Isobel?” the driver shouted.

The urgency in his voice made her turn to look. This car wasn’t the silvery sedan whose hood she’d seen. It was a big black SUV with the driver’s window all the way open. She could see there was only one person in the car, and it wasn’t her would-be killer. This man was tanned and tough-looking, with close-cropped dark hair.

“Get in, quick,” he urged her, and the passenger door swung open as the car skidded to a stop. “I’m Joey Montague.”